


Happy Little Trees

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Bob Ross references, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: Being next door neighbors with an Avenger has some advantages





	Happy Little Trees

**Author's Note:**

> cross posted from tumblr

“Excuse me.”

Jolting in surprise at the soft spoken words, your junk mail slipped from your grasp to scatter across the floor. Stooping down to pick up the various envelopes and flyers, you shot an embarrassed grin at the man waiting to get to his mailbox. “Hey sarge- sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry,” he apologized, crouching to help you, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t worry about it, sarge,” you waved it off with a grateful smile.

He didn’t let go right away, a hint of a smile on his face. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky.”

“At least one more,” you smiled back.

He chuckled, releasing his hold on your mail. Saying your goodbyes, you didn’t think you were imagining the weight of his eyes on your back as you trudged up the stairs to your apartment, but pushed the thought from your mind.

Being next door neighbors with an actual Avenger had definitely taken some getting used to. Why Barnes had decided to settle in among a building full of civilians instead of superhero headquarters, you had no idea. The week before he’d moved in, the building rumor mill had been buzzing about the newest resident. The reaction among your neighbors had been mixed, some planning to get autographs while others angrily vowed to move out. You’d taken the news in stride- rent was decent and it wasn’t like the guy was still an assassin, as far as you knew.

Actually meeting him had been…unexpectedly normal. Coming home to find a stranger standing in the hallway, carrying torn bags and surrounded by scattered groceries, wasn’t how you imagined your first encounter with the superhero. After helping him mop up the broken glass and pasta sauce, you’d introduced yourself to your new neighbor. The lack of hostility seemed to throw him off, and he’d thanked you in a low mumble before escaping to his apartment. A casual sort of friendship had grown between you over the months, enough for him to feel comfortable teasing you in his own quiet way.

Tossing your purse on the sofa, you left your mail on the kitchen counter with the empty promise of going through it later; all you wanted to do now was relax. Toeing off your shoes with a relieved sigh, you rummaged through your barren fridge for something to make for dinner. When your search yielded nothing but a bottle of mustard and some expired takeout, you admitted defeat and ordered from your favorite pizza place for the third time that month. Hanging up, there was a knock on the door. Your curious frown melted away when you glanced through the peephole to see Bucky on the other side. Unlocking the door, you wondered what he wanted.

“Sorry to bother you again,” he began, holding out a piece of mail, “but you forgot this downstairs.”

“Thanks, sarge.”

“Bucky,” he chided gently, a tiny smile on his face.

Grinning, you thanked him again. After a moment of awkward silence, you hesitatingly invited him in for some pizza, worried he might laugh. He politely declined, though his refusal seemed reluctant. There was some sort of fundraiser the Avengers were scheduled to attend that he had to get ready for.

“I would skip out on it, but I’ve missed that last few and the others will chew my ass out if I don’t go to this one.”

“Yikes,” you said with a mock shudder of horror, “have fun with that.”

“Not likely.”

Noticing the slight frown on his face, there was no doubt he really didn’t want to go. It didn’t surprise you; from what you’d come to discover over the past few months, Bucky avoided large crowds of people like the plague. He didn’t even get on the building elevator if there were more than a few people already on board, and this thing was bound to be crawling with attendees and photographers. Sympathy surged through you, though you were careful to keep pity out of your expression.

Forcing a lighthearted tone that you didn’t feel, you said, “Well, at least there’ll be free food and booze…do me a solid and try to sneak some champagne out for me, would ya?”

He snorted, his frown softening. “Sure, I’ll see what I can do.”

Saying good night, you watched him disappear into his unit, door shutting softly behind him. Shutting your own door with a sigh, worry gnawed at your gut. Despite his attempts to hide his anxiety, the signs were there. While you might not be as close as his superhero buddies, you  _did_  consider him a friend, your protective instincts flaring to life in the face of his uneasiness. Unfortunately, you didn’t get a say in the matter, and there was nothing you could do besides hope he would be okay.

Changing into more comfortable clothes, you puttered around your apartment, picking up some of the clutter as you waited for the pizza to arrive. When it finally did, you tipped the driver before settling in for some couch surfing. Digging into the first slice, you were scrolling through your Netflix feed when the sound of Bucky’s door opening and shutting reached your ears, the soft tread of his footsteps passing by your door before disappearing down the corridor.

Pushing down your worry, you pressed play on the first title to catch your interest. Hoping that the mild mannered host would help you relax, ‘The Joy of Painting’ filled your screen. “Guess it’s just you and me tonight, Bob.”

You’d lost track of how many episodes you’d binged when the heavy trod of footsteps shuffled past your front door, followed by the jingle of keys, and opening and closing of a door. Bucky was home, apparently, and if the stomping coming from next door was any indication, the evening hadn’t gone well. Concerned- Bucky was normally quiet as a whisper, not one to slam his cabinets open and shut- you set aside your food, determined to go check on him and make sure he was alright.

At least, that was the plan. Standing in front of his door, though, you had second thoughts. Biting your lip, you feared you might be overstepping your bounds. Whatever happened tonight, he wasn’t in a good place, and Bucky was an intensely private person who might not want to see anyone right now. Pushing aside your doubts, you steeled your resolve and knocked.

Several long moments passed before you heard shuffling on the other side, and a weary looking Bucky opened the door. With a tentative smile, you said, “Hey, sarge, sorry to bother you. I just…I wanted to make sure you’re actually okay.”

He didn’t say anything at first, his unwavering stare fixed on you. Fidgeting under the weight of his gaze, heat bloomed in your cheeks as the silence dragged on. You were about to slink away in embarrassment when he sighed.

“Thanks,” he murmured, “I, uh, I’m sorry for worrying you. Tonight was…a lot to deal with, and I just…”

He trailed off, fatigue etched across his face. This was a side to Barnes you’d never seen, one you were sure he didn’t show many people. Your heart ached for him all of a sudden, for this poor man who’d been through so much and yet never complained. He didn’t complain about the neighbors who looked at him askance, as if he were a bomb about to detonate at any moment. He didn’t complain about the whispers and hisses that followed him, or the way only you and a handful of others would speak with him like he was a normal human being.

“I’ve still got some pizza, if you’re interested.” The words were out before you could stop them. Ignoring his bewildered expression at the abrupt change of topic, you continued, “I figured- I mean- these things usually only have tiny little hors d'oeuvres, so I just thought I’d offer…”

“…I’d love some pizza.”

Relieved that he hadn’t rebuked your offer, you led the way back to your apartment, keenly aware of the quiet man trailing behind you. Making smalltalk had never been one of your strengths, but you were comfortable enough around each other that Bucky didn’t seem to mind. You chatted about inconsequential things while the pizza reheated, careful to steer the conversation away from what was bothering him.

“What are you watching,” he asked suddenly, staring at your TV screen.

“Hmm? Oh, just some Bob Ross- I like to binge watch when I want to relax. I can change it if you want.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I’ve never seen him before, but Steve watches him sometimes.”

Captain America liked to watch Bob Ross? Alright then. Shrugging, you pulled the pizza from the oven, sliding a couple slices onto Bucky’s plate before handing it to him. Taking your own plate, you poured some glasses of water for the two of you before making yourself comfortable on the couch. Bucky hovered uncertainly, only sitting when you gestured to  the space next to you in invitation. Perched gingerly on the edge, plate balanced on his knees, he was quiet as you hit ‘Play’.

Ross’ soothing voice flowed from your speakers as he walked his invisible audience through painting a tropical beach. Full of quiet humor and gentle encouragement, the artist wielded his brushes with easy grace, a beautiful landscape scene of fiery oranges and deep aquas blooming to life across his canvas.

Bucky didn’t say a word, absentmindedly eating his pizza as the episode played on. Occasionally he would chuckle at a corny joke, nodding along to Bob’s lesson. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, you could practically see the tension leaving his posture, the quiet man sinking more comfortably into the sofa cushions. Biting back a relieved smile, you turned your attention back to the screen.

‘Let’s go ahead and add a happy little tree here,’ Bob instructed, a palm tree appearing on the screen in a few quick strokes of his brush. ‘Oh what the heck, let’s give him a friend so he doesn’t get lonely.’

Bucky watched, transfixed as a second tree appeared next to the first, followed by a flock of gulls crossing the painted horizon. You found yourself watching him more than the screen, curiously pleased with how relaxed he was in your presence. By the time the episode was over, his pizza was nothing but crumbs and the soft- almost bashful- smile you always associated with him was back.

“D’you want more pizza,” you asked as the timer counted down to the next episode.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Naw, eat as much as you want, it’s just gonna sit in my fridge and get moldy otherwise,” you replied, refilling his plate as the next episode began. Handing it back to him, you asked, “Are you still okay with watching this?”

He nodded. “I can see why Stevie likes it- he’s always been into art.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, ever since he was a scrawny little punk getting his ass kicked in alleyways.” His smile widened, his voice growing more animated. “When he was drawing was the only time he wasn’t out getting himself into trouble.”

“You’re kidding-  _Captain America_  was a troublemaker?”

“Don’t let the stars and stripes fool ya, doll; Stevie’s always been the first one to step in if he sees a fight goin’ down. Hell, most of the time, he was the one throwin’ the first punch. I can’t tell you the number of times I’d find him takin’ on some jackass twice as big as him. You’d think he woulda learned after the first few fights, but no, I was always having to keep him from getting in over his head.”

“He sounds like a chihuahua,” you snickered, “all that attitude in a pint size package.”

“Doll, you have no idea,” he said with a laugh.

It was the first time you’d heard him laugh- a genuine, unguarded laugh that made his eyes crinkle. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, amazed at the transformation. Anyone with functioning eyes could see he was a good looking man, but when he laughed…when he laughed, it was something else. All of his usual reserve was gone, and for the first time since you’d met him, you felt like you were finally seeing the real James Buchanan Barnes.

Before he could catch you staring, you said, “You must’ve had your hands full looking out for him.”

“Ah, well, we looked out for each other, really. I was lucky- even when I didn’t have much, I had Steve,” he replied, voice heavy with nostalgia .

“He was lucky too…he had you.”

Silence fell, save for Bob’s patient instructions. You weren’t sure what more to say, caught off guard by Bucky bringing up the past. One thing was certain- you wanted to see him laugh again, see that carefree smile one more time.

“I still can’t get over the idea of Mr. ‘Rappin’ with Cap’ himself getting in back alley fistfights,” you chuckled.

Bucky shot you a puzzled look. “ _What_  with Cap?”

“You know, those super cheesy PSA videos. There’s gotta be at least a dozen of them…I’ve got a cousin in high school who showed them to me and I swear I’ve never laughed so hard.” The bewildered expression on his face didn’t change, and you realized he had no idea what you were talking about. “He didn’t tell you about them, did he?”

At the slow shake of his head, you paused the episode. “Wait right here.”

Bucky was quiet as you got out your laptop from your bedroom, his curiosity evident. Turning it on, you pulled up YouTube and quickly searched for the videos in question, a grin spreading across your face. Hurrying back over to the sofa, you scooched a little closer to Bucky, angling the screen so both of you could see it. Stifling a snort, you hit play.

The look on Bucky’s face was priceless, a mix of ‘small child running loose in a candy shop’ and ‘Christmas came early’. As the video went on, you found yourself watching him more than the PSA, the smile growing on his face with every second. By the time the second video started, he was snickering to himself, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain it. There was no hope of holding it in by the third video, however, Cap’s lecture about puberty too much for him to handle.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “this is best goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re never gonna let him live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he snorted, “just wait til I show Sam.”

You beamed at his delighted expression, pleased that you got him to laugh again. “I hope this doesn’t mean I end up on Captain America’s shitlist.”

“Don’t worry about it, I can handle that punk,” he reassured you with a grin, lounging back in his seat as he queued up the next video. “Can’t have him coming after my favorite neighbor, now can I?”

“Favorite, huh?”

He went quiet, smile growing soft as he studied your face. “Yea,” he said eventually, “is that a problem?”

“No,” you responded, matching his playful tone, “in fact, you’re my favorite too…well, after Mr. Ramsey. That man makes a chocolate lava cake that’s pretty impossible to beat.”

Chuckling, the pair of you binged the rest of the videos, the wide smile never once leaving Bucky’s face. Every now and then, you felt him staring at you, though he looked away too quickly for you to catch him in the act. It didn’t escape your notice, however, when he subtly shifted a little closer in your direction, his leg brushing ever-so-slightly against yours.

You caught a hint of his cologne, something clean and earthy that set your heart racing. Leaning over to grab your water glass from the coffee table, you watched from the corner of your eye as he tracked your movements, a contemplative look on his face. When you sat back, his human arm was casually slung across the back of your sofa, your face going hot as you settled against him. He didn’t say anything, and neither did you, afraid of disrupting this sense of something new.

After a few more videos, you were both surprised to see that it was nearly midnight. Slowly moving his arm from behind you, Bucky moved to stand. “I should get going. I’ve taken up enough of your time and food.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” you hastened to reassure.

“Thanks, but Steve wants to go running in the morning, and he’ll give me grief if I bail on him again,” he explained. “Thank you, for tonight. It felt good to just…relax. I don’t remember the last time I laughed so hard. So just…thanks.”

“Anytime,” you replied, trying to hide your disappointment.

Insisting he take the leftover pizza, you saw him to the door. He lingered a moment, pizza box in hand. Opening his mouth, he shut it again without saying anything, turning to go. But before you could wish him good night, he changed his mind, resolutely turning back to you.

“You like Italian, right?”

Confused, you nodded. “Yea…”

“Cuz I’ve been taking a cooking class as part of my therapy, and I’d like to thank you for today.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know,” he interrupted, “but I want to. Please.”

Surprised yet elated at the turn of events, you nodded. “Okay. Friday at seven work for you?”

“Sounds perfect,” he said with relief, giving you a crooked smile.

“Alright, Friday at seven it is…Bucky.”

His smile got impossibly brighter. “Lookin’ forward to it.”


End file.
